He waves his hand. “Oh, that’s okay. I learned a long time ago that God makes a better father anyway.”
“Huh?”
“I was thirteen when my dad ran out on us. At first I was really angry. I mean here’s my mom with two boys to raise, and she’s already unstable, and she didn’t even have a job at the time. What kind of a jerk would do that?”
I nod and listen.
“I spent about a year being mad. You might even remember what an attitude I had during middle school.”
I shrug. “I just figured you were going through something.”
“Oh, I was. I really was. But that’s when I met Pastor Leon. He’s pretty amazing. Anyway, he got through to me and I finally gave my life to God.”
“And that changed everything?” I can hear the skepticism in my voice, but Nate doesn’t seem to mind.
“No, that didn’t change everything.” He takes another sip. “But it started changing me.”
“How did it change you?” I’m actually interested in hearing this. I mean after tonight, I think there are probably some things I wouldn’t mind changing about myself.
“Well, first of all, it gave me someone to talk to, someone to take my problems to—”
“You mean Pastor Leon?”
“Not exactly, although I knew he would listen. But I’m talking about a relationship with God, Zoë. It’s like he really did become my father. And I could talk to him about anything. Not only that, but it’s like he gave me some real direction for my life. Like I wasn’t lost anymore. I had some guidelines and some idea of where I was going.”
“Kind of like a compass?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
I listen as Nate talks about God like he’s his best friend. And, despite myself, I am being more and more drawn in.
“Lots of things changed,” he continues. “Like instead of just looking at myself and feeling sorry for poor old me, I began to care about others. And the more I cared about others, the less cruddy my life seemed.”
We’ve both finished our coffee now, but I feel like I could keep listening to him all night. How weird is that? But even weirder is this feeling that’s growing inside of me. I’m not even sure how to describe it. Maybe it’s hope.
“Sorry to go on and on,” says Nate as he looks at his watch. “Oh, man, it’s almost midnight. Do you have a curfew?”
I shrug. “My parents are pretty laid back. But I suppose I shouldn’t push my luck.”
“Yeah.” He stands. “I should get you home.”
We continue to talk as he drives me home. Suddenly I am full of questions about what he believes and how he can be so sure it’s real and how did he know that he wasn’t just imagining things and so on.
“It’s about faith,” he finally says when we’re in front of my house. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s something God actually plants inside of you. I guess you know it when it happens.”
“How do you know?” I demand, unwilling to get out of his pickup without this information. “What does it feel like?”
“It probably feels different with everyone. For me it was just this sudden burst of realization, I guess. Kind of like a hunch that you know you have to act on before you lose out. Does that make any sense?”
I nod. “A little.”
“The thing is,” he continues, “if God is really planting faith in you, I think you’ll know it, Zoë.”
“I hope so.” Then I reach for the door handle. “Thanks for rescuing me tonight, Nate.”
He grins. “Once again, it’s Nate to the rescue.”
“And thanks for everything else too.” Then I get out of his warm pickup and run up to the house. I turn to look back and he’s still waiting there. I guess he wants to make sure I get into my house safely. I wave at him then go inside.
My parents have already gone to bed, but my dad calls out good-night as I tiptoe to my bedroom. I answer him and go into my room and shut the door. But as I get ready for bed, I feel wide awake. Maybe it’s the coffee or just the adrenaline that’s still rushing through me from the events of the evening. But I know I won’t be able to go to sleep for a while. I’m thinking about what Nate said. And I’m thinking about this tiny feeling of hope that keeps flickering. In light of what happened with Justin, it doesn’t quite make sense. Like shouldn’t I be all bummed and worried right now? But there it is, this tiny spark of something that came from who knows where Could it be from God? Could it be what Nate was calling faith?
And suddenly I am actually down on my knees. Now how weird is that? But it’s like I’m caught up in this moment, like I’m afraid to let it slip by unnoticed, like I might miss out on something that could change my entire life. But I have no idea what to do now. Or what to say.
“Okay, God,” I am whispering, “if what I am feeling inside of me is really you, can you please make it a little more clear? I mean can you show me that it’s truly you? Or faith? Or whatever?” Then I just wait, still on my knees. I sort of expect that this feeling will vanish before long, because, to be honest, I feel sort of silly just kneeling like this. It’s so out of character. Okay, maybe it was a real feeling, but it’ll probably slowly diminish like a candle that’s burning out. But to my amazement it not only stays with me, it seems to grow.
“Is this for real?” I whisper again. “Is this really you, God?” And to my total amazement, I have this sense that it is for real. That it is God. But, even so, I’m not sure what to do with it. Or about it. So I just stay there on my knees until I finally feel so tired that I know I’m about to fall asleep. But still it’s like I’m afraid to get up and go to bed, like maybe I’ll miss something or it will go away. And so I ask God to keep whatever this is going until the morning. It’s not like this is a test exactly, but then maybe it is. I’m not sure. All I know is that something inside me feels vastly different. I feel a sense of hope, and I don’t want it to go away.
twenty
INSTEAD OF SLEEPING IN UNTIL NOON THE NEXT MORNING, I FIND THAT I’m awake and ready to get up. And it’s only nine o’clock. I shower and dress and go downstairs, where my parents are having coffee and reading the newspaper.
“You’re up early,” says Dad as he glances from the sports page.
“And dressed too,” adds Mom. “What’s the occasion?”
“I don’t know,” I tell them.
“Maybe you want to go to church,” says my dad, but I can tell by the way he’s saying it that he doesn’t really think that I do.
“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe I do.”
Now my mom studies me like she thinks maybe I’m sick or have some huge sin to atone for or something. “Everything okay with you, Zoë?”
I force an uncomfortable smile. “Yeah, sure. Everything’s fine.”
And so I go to church with my parents. It’s not Easter or Christmas and I am actually going to church with them. I can tell they’re afraid to say anything, like maybe they’ll jinx this thing and I’ll change my mind at the last minute and not go inside. But I do.
We sit down and I prepare myself to listen. I mean really listen. It’s like I suddenly care. Like I really want to know what Pastor Leon has to say today. And for the first time ever, it’s like I really hear him. I mean I totally get him. He’s talking about friendship. And how Jesus is such a devoted friend that he gave his life for his friends. He’s saying that we’re not just Jesus’ servants, but his dear friends, and that he chose us and has a plan for us. And I am sitting on the edge of the pew thinking, yes, yes, this is how I feel inside. This all makes sense.
Then Pastor Leon does something that I’ve never seen him do before. (Of course, I only come to church a few times a year, so how would I know?) But he is inviting people to leave their seats and come down to the altar if they want to commit or recommit their lives to Jesus. And my heart is pounding even harder than it was last night when I was trying to escape from Justin. And I know, somehow I know, that I need to pry my rear end off this pew and wa
lk down there. I’m just not sure that I can.
Then I consider the alternative. What if I don’t get up and go down there? And suddenly I am on my feet and walking forward. And it’s like everything around me is just a blur. All I can think is, Get down to that altar and make it fast.
I admit that I’m relieved not to be the only one. In fact it looks like nearly half of the people in church are up front. And then Pastor Leon leads us all in this prayer where we give our lives to Jesus and invite him to rule our hearts. I repeat every single word and when I’m done, I know that I meant it. I realize that tears are running down my cheeks as I walk back to my seat. But I don’t even care. And then I see my parents and realize that they are crying too. We hug and I feel a little self-conscious, but really good too.
After church, Nate comes up to me and gives me a big hug. “That is so cool, Zoë,” he says. “Welcome to the family.”
I smile and tell him all about what happened before I went to bed last night and he totally gets it.
“I’m not sure what this means,” I admit. “Like what I’m supposed to do next.”
“Don’t worry,” he assures me. “God will lead you.”
I nod. “Good. I’m ready for some direction.”
Now, even though I believe that God is in my heart and I can talk to him and he is leading me, I still feel a little uneasy as I go to school on Monday. And I’m really not looking forward to speaking to Justin.
I manage to make it through half the day without actually seeing him, and when I do he just totally ignores me. And, hey, that’s fine with me. I mean I knew our relationship was over the minute I ran out on him. But it’s not until after PE (in the locker room of course) that I find out what he’s been telling everyone.
“Hey, Zoë, sounds like you and Justin had one hot night last weekend,” says Thea with a spark in her eye. Naturally, everyone else gets real quiet.
“What do you mean?” I ask as I struggle to pull a sock over my still-damp foot.
“I mean it sounds like you really delivered the goods,” she says.
“Yeah,” agrees Kirsti. “Too bad it wasn’t good enough to keep him, huh?”
“Huh?” I look up at Kirsti.
She gives me this I-feel-so-sorry-for-you look. “Oh, don’t feel bad. Lots of girls get dumped after delivering the goods.”
Now Thea pats me on the head. “Yeah, it’s okay, Zoë. You really should’ve left Justin to some of us more experienced women.” Then she laughs.
I attempt to straighten them out, but now they’re getting so carried away with themselves and their X-rated jokes that I might as well be talking to my locker. Finally I just give in and let them rip on me. Emily and Andrea look on with slightly sympathetic eyes, but they don’t say anything in my defense. I suppose they think I deserve it. Even Shawna, who is back in school today and keeping totally to herself, is watching this little exchange from her safe spot on the other side of the locker room. I hurry to finish dressing then make a quick exit.
I know my cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, but more than that, I’m angry. Really, really angry! How dare Justin go around slandering me, giving me a reputation that’s totally undeserved! I duck into the restroom that’s near the auditorium and go into a stall and close the door. I stand there for several minutes just trying to calm myself and keep myself from crying. All I need is to go to play rehearsal looking all red-eyed and soggy. I take a deep breath and attempt to pray, but this is all still very new to me. I’m not even sure what to say or what to ask for. Finally, I just thank God for being my friend and ask him to help me through this thing. I stay in the stall a few more minutes and finally I am beginning to feel stronger and I think maybe I can survive seeing Justin at rehearsal.
When I come out of the stall I’m surprised to see Casey in front of the mirror. I hadn’t heard anyone come in. I tell her hello then make a pretense of washing my hands so it looks like I was in the stall for a reason.
“You didn’t flush,” she tells me.
Then I sort of laugh. “Actually, I didn’t need to.” Then I look at her more closely and decide I might as well make her day. “I went in there to pray.”
Well, her eyes just bug open. “To pray?”
I nod. “Yep. I invited God into my heart in church yester—” But I can’t even finish my sentence before she throws her arms around me and hugs me so tightly that I almost can’t breathe.
“Praise God!” she finally says as she steps back.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, thinking that it might’ve been a mistake to tell her.
“So what about this rumor that’s going around school?” she demands. “Did you and Justin really—”
“It’s a lie,” I cut her off. “Not that it’s anyone’s business. But just so you know, it’s a big fat lie.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Now she studies me carefully, like she’s sizing me up. “Because God really has something better for you, Zoë.”
“Man, I sure hope so.” Then I kind of laugh and take a nervous step toward the door.
“And since you told me you’re a believer I’m going to spare you from my regular sermon,” she says.
“Hey, I appreciate it.”
Then we leave the bathroom and walk into the auditorium together. Naturally, this invites some snickers (and I’m sure lewd jokes) from Todd and Justin who are standing down by the stage watching us. Well, let them, I’m thinking as I walk right past. I might as well get used to it.
Thankfully, Nate is already backstage and I am relieved to hang with him during most of rehearsal. And I’m beginning to notice something happening among the cast. It’s like these lines are being drawn. Not with everyone. But definitely with some of us. Like somehow Shawna has formed this alliance with Todd and Justin now. Of course, I realize this must appear more acceptable since Emily actually broke up with Todd on Saturday night. A huge relief to me personally. Of course, Emily is still totally bummed and not the least bit pleased that she has to get tested for the STD this week. And on the other side of the line I find myself standing with Nate and Casey. Kind of weird. I mention this to Nate, but he assures me that he doesn’t see it that way. “It might seem like it right now,” he tells me as we wait for our next scene. “But, really, Zoë, they’re not the enemy.”
I nod and try to understand this, but I have to admit that Nate seems way ahead of me in these things. Still, I’ve decided to trust him on this. And I’m trying really hard to just act normal and go through rehearsal like everything’s okay.
But then Justin makes this totally skanky comment about me (suggesting that I need to take lessons in performing an act that I have no intention of doing with anyone!) and I so really want to let him have it. But before I have a chance to say something, Nate steps in. “There’s no need to talk like that,” he tells Justin in a calm voice.
“How would you know?” Justin challenges him, and suddenly I can tell everyone is listening.
“Because Zoë is my friend. And what you said isn’t true.”
Justin laughs. “You mean Zoë hasn’t done that for you, old man? Hey, you’re missing out. She might be an amateur, but you probably wouldn’t even know the difference.”
Now Nate is looking seriously aggravated, and I want to smack Justin in the nose. “It’s too bad that you have to make yourself feel better at the expense of someone else,” says Nate.
“Hey, she gets what she deserves.” Justin sneers at Nate now. “And I guess she deserves a geek like you.”
Okay, Christian or not, there’s only so much a girl can take. “Get over yourself, Justin,” I say in a loud voice as I step right up to him and look him in the eyes. “Look, I’m sorry I upset you because I didn’t want to have sex with you on Saturday night. But you don’t have to take it out on Nate. If you were half the guy that Nate is, you wouldn’t go around telling everyone a bunch of lies to cover up the fact that there’s at least one girl in this school who isn’t interested in sleeping with you.”
>
“Two!” yells Casey, which almost makes me laugh.
Then Justin narrows his eyes and grabs me by the arm and says, “You got off easy, little girl. But you might not be that lucky next time.”
“Next time?” I repeat. “There’s not going to be a next time.” Then I try to pull away. “Let go of me, Justin!”
But he doesn’t.
“Let go of her,” says Nate in a calm but firm voice.
Still Justin holds on. And he is squeezing hard.
“You’re hurting me!”
“I said let go!” says Nate as he gets in Justin’s face and puts a hand on his arm.
“That’s right,” says a loud voice behind us. I turn to see Mr. Roberts. “Let go of her, Justin.”
Justin finally releases my arm and I rub the spot that’s now throbbing.
“And you are excused from practice,” says Mr. Roberts. Then Justin just turns and storms off. Most of the cast claps now.
Then Mr. Roberts takes Nate and me aside and demands an explanation. Feeling embarrassed, I tell him in general terms what happened and Nate backs me up.
“You kids,” says Mr. Roberts in exasperation. Then he follows up by giving the rest of the cast a little lecture on how he expects us to act during the next several weeks of rehearsals. Finally, he says, “You know I can shut the whole thing down right now. And, yes, we’ll lose money and we won’t be able to do much in drama next year. But if you kids can’t behave with a little self-respect and propriety”—he gives Shawna and Todd a firm look—“then we might as well cut our losses right now.”
To my surprise, he seems to have everyone’s attention and I’m hoping that this speech might help things to settle down around here. I’d hate to see our production canceled just because a few kids can’t keep their hands off each other.
twenty-one
TO MY RELIEF, THINGS DO SETTLE DOWN FOR THE OKLAHOMA! CAST DURing the next couple of weeks. And for me personally. Justin and I have this sort of unspoken agreement to rehearse as needed and then avoid each other completely during the rest of the time. And it seems to be working. Still, I find myself totally amazed that I ever fell for that guy. Mostly I thank God that I didn’t fall completely. Not that I think God wouldn’t have rescued me from something worse. I’m just glad that he didn’t need to. And, looking back at that time, I realize that both Nate and Casey were really praying for me, and I honestly think that God was looking out for and protecting me, not just from Justin, but from myself too. And that’s pretty awesome.
Torch Red: Color Me Torn with Bonus Content Page 16